Robert Ludlum - The Scarlatti Inheritance

THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE BY ROBERT LUDLUM Bantam Books by Robert Ludlum Ask your bookseller for the books you have missed THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION THE BOURNE IDENTITY THE BOURNE SUPREMACY THE CHANCELLOR MANUSCRIPT THE HOLCROFF COVENANT THE ICARUS AGENDA THE MATARESE CIRCLE THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC THE ROAD TO GANDOLFO THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE BANTAM BOOKS TORONTO - NEW YORK - LONDON - SYDNEY - AUCKLAND THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE A Bantam Book / published by arrangement with the author Bantam edition / March 1982 15 printings through March 1989 All rights reserved. Copyright 0 1971 by Robert Ludlam. Cover artwork copyright (D 1985 by Bill Schmidt. No part ofthis book may be reproduced or transmitted in anyform or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writingfrom the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books. a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster. is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10103. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA KR24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 1615 For MARY: For all those reasons she must know so well "Above all, there was Mary." THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE PART 0 CHAPTER I October 10, 1944-Washington, DX.

The brigadier general sat stiffly on the deacon's bench, preferring the hard surface of the pine to the soft leather of the armchairs. It was nine twenty in the morning and he had not slept well, no more than an hour. As each half hour had been marked by the single chime of the small mantel clock, he had found himself, to his surprise, wanting the time to pass more swiftly. Because nine thirty had to come, he wanted to reckon with iL At nine thirty he was to appear before the secretary of state, Cordell S. Hull. As he sat in the secretalys outer office, facing the large black door with its gleaming brass hardware, he fingered the white folder, which he had taken out of his affach6 case.

When the time came for him to produce it, he did not want an awkward moment of silence while he opened the case to extract the folder. He wanted to be able to thrust it, if necessary, into the hands of the secretary of state with assurance. On the other hand, Hun might not ask for it. He might demand only a verbal explanation and then proceed to use the authority of his office to term the spoken words unacceptable If such was the case the brigadier could do no more than protest Mildly, to be sure. The information in the folder did not constitute proof, only data that could or could not bolster the conjectures he had made. The brigadier general looked at his watch.

It was nine twenty-four and he wondered if HuIrs reputation for punctuality would apply to his appointment. He had reached his own office at seven thirty, approximately half an hour before his normal arrival time. Normal, that was, except for periods of crisis when he often stayed through the night awaiting the latest development of critical information. These past three days were not unlike those periods of crisis. In a different way. His memorandum to the secretary, the memorandum that had resulted in his appointment this morning, might put him to the test.

Ways could be found to place him out of communication, far from any center of influence. He might well be made to appear a total incompetent. But be knew he was right. He bent the top of the folder back, just enough to read the typed title page: "Canfield, Matthew. Major, United States Army Reserve. Department of Military Intelligence." Canfield, Matthew....

Matthew Canfield. He was the proof. A buzzer rang on the intercom on the desk of a middle-aged receptionist. "Brigadier General Ellis?" She barely looked up from tb~, paper Right here. "Ibe secretary will see you now." Ellis looked at his wristwatch. It was nine thirty-two.

He rose, walked toward the ominous black-enameled door, and opened it. "Youll forgive me, General Ellis. I felt that the nature of your memorandum required the presence of a third party. May I introduce Undersecretary Brayduck?" The brigadier was startled. He had not anticipated a third party; he had specifically requested that the audience be between the secretary and himself alone. Undersecretary Brayduck stood about ton feet to the right of Hull's desk.

He obviously was one of those White House.-State Department university men so prevalent in the Roosevelt administration. Even his clothes-the light gray flannels and the wide herringbone jacket-were casway emphasized m the silent counterpoint to the creased uniform of the brigadier. "Certainly, Mr. Secretary. Mr. Cordell S. Cordell S.

Hull sat behind the wide desk. His familiar features-the very light skin, almost white, the thinning white hair, the steel-rimmed pince-nez in front of his blue-green eyes-all seemed larger than life because they were an everyday image. The newspapers and the motion picture newsreels were rarely without photographs of him. Even the more inclusive election posters-ponderously asking, Do you want to change horses in the middle of the stream?-had his reassuring, intelligent face prominently displayed beneath Roosevelt's; sometimes more prominently than the unknown Harry Truman's. Brayduck took a tobacco pouch out of his pocket and began stuffing his pipe. Hull arranged several papers on his desk and slowly opened a folder, identical to the one in the brigadier's hand, and looked down at it.

Ellis recognized it. It was the confidential memorandum he had had hand-delivered to the secretary of state. Brayduck lit his pipe and the odor of the tobacco caused Ellis to look at the man once again. That smell belonged to one of those strange mixtures considered so original by the university people but generally offensive to anyone else in the room. Brigadier Ellis would be re.lieved when the war was over. Roosevelt would then be out and so would the so-called intellectuals and their badsmelling tobaccos.

The Brain Trust. Pinks, every one of them. But first the war. Hull looked up at the brigadier. "Needless to say, General, your memorandum is very disturbing." "The. information was disturbing to me, Mr.

Secretary.*# "No doubt. No doubt. The question would appear to be, Is there any foundation for your conclusions? I mean, anything concrete?" "I believe so, sir.'.' "How many others in Intelligence know about this, Eliisr' Brayduck interrupted and the absence of the word "General" was not lost on the brigadier. "rve spoken to no one. I didn't think rd be speaking to anyone but the secretary this morning, to be perfectly frank with you." "Mr. Brayduck has my confidence, General Ellis.

He's here at my request. My orders, if you like." "I understand." cordeli Hull leaned back in his chair. "Withotit of fense, I wonder if you do.... 'You send a classified memorandum, delivered under the highest priority to this office-to my own person, to be exact-and the substance of what you say is nothing short of incredible." "A preposterous charge you admit you can't prove," interjected Brayduck, sucking on his pipe as he approached the desk. "Thafs precisely why we're here." Hull had requested Brayduck's presence but he was not going to suffer undue interference, much less insolence. "Mr. "Mr.

Secretary, Army Intelligent:e is hardly without its inaccuracies. We've learned that at great cost. My only concern is to prevent another inaccuracy, a misinformed speculation, from becoming ammunition for this administration's political opponents. There's an election less than four weeks awayl" Hun shifted his large head no more than several inches. He did not look at Brayduck as he spoke. "You don't have to remind me of such pragmatic considerations....